Blue You
by GingerRoseProductions
Summary: A mirror parody of the story we all know and love. Jackson stalks a new prey, for an even more worthy cause. Rated for rather strong language. Be warned!


Blue You

Chapter One: Deja Vu

By: GingerRoseProductions

_A/N: Well hello there all you peoples of the Red Eye section. This is both of ours first time submitting a piece in this area. We hope you enjoy our work. It is meant to be funny, so do feel free to laugh all you like. If you like it, if you hate it, please, please review and let us know. Thank you._

_Love, from Samma and Jenna._

_P.S. We own no one/nothing that appears in this story, except for the Airline and the ketchup packets. We borrowed everything/one else, but we promise to return them once we finished._

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Fucking Burger King. The mere smell of fast food made his stomach turn, but they were the only place in the terminal that sold the plastic watches, not to mention their yummy onion rings. He shuffled through the line, ordered his food and watch, all the while keeping an eye on the highlighted brunette at the cabana style bar across the way, probably drinking her Screaming Orgasm on the Beach with an extra cherry. So predictable that one.

Once he got his bag he settled in a small alcove, still in view of the flamboyantly dressed woman who sat, unaware that anyone would be watching her. Jackson fiddled with his Burger King bag, setting his onion rings on his knee and fetching the packets of ketchup. His prey had finished her drink and was now flirting with the bar tender, negotiating her tab. Jackson kept both eyes on her, as he fiddled with his ketchup attempting to open and pour it on his greasy food. Jackson watched, mesmerized, as the targets hand strayed to her ample bosom, giving it a slight squeeze.

He felt something cold and gooey fall onto his front, and looked down, realizing that he had just squirted ketchup all over his tie. Cursing, he threw his food back in the bag, fishing out a paper napkin and dabbing at the condiment that clung to his fine garment. Realizing he was only making the mess worse, he rose to his feet and prowled towards the nearest restroom.

Just before entering the mens room, he saw his target, walking away with a self satisfied smile, heading toward the smoking pit in the terminal. He knew she would be there awhile, a slave to her nicotine addiction.

Shoving open the door, wetting some cheap paper towels, Jackson began to work on his tie. On seeing the stain already setting in, he angrily loosened the knot, a fifty dollar Italian silk tie down the fucking drain. Oh well, he was sure he could make some use of it, in his task to come.

As he lifted the tie over his head, he spotted the raised circular scar on his neck through his loosened collar. Putting his right hand to his throat, he ran a calloused finger over the marred skin, remembering that certain mission, on that certain plane. That cum guzzling cheap slut had left a permanent reminder on his person, several of them actually. Whore.

He adjusted his collar to look semi decent. God how he loathed not wearing a tie. It was the one thing that brought a mans outfit together. Women had tits, men had ties.

Storming out of the restroom, Jackson headed to the smoking pit, struggling to put his charming personality back in place.

"Oh I told ya, from my best side, darlings!" the prey had her arm wrapped around a measly fan, posing as some one took a picture.

"Oh my god, you are such a genius! I love your work. You make me laugh sooo fucking hard, it's just great! Oh my god I love you!" The fan ranted and raved, while the apparent celebrity just stood there looking mildly amused but none the less terribly bored. Jackson looked on, showing mild amusement, but inside shuddering at all the emotional gushing. Once the fan finally wandered away, the woman plopped herself unceremoniously beside Jackson, smiling sweetly at him.

"Hello, I don't suppose you'd have a light, would you?" she asked, her English lit very apparent in her surprisingly deep voice.

"As a matter of fact, I believe that I do," Jackson smiled in his charming Irish way, fishing out his lighter and lighting the womans cigarette for her.

"Oh thank you. This is one of the few airports that actually has a smoking area, and I thank god every time I'm laid over in this godforsaken city. So, where abouts are you headed?"

"To Louisville, Kentucky. And yourself?"

"Hey, Stale Air flight 815?"

"Wow, what a coincidence." Jackson tried to sound surprised.

"You know, my grandmother always told me that there were no coincidences."

"Really?"

"Well, no, I just made that one up. But I did bike from Eastbourne to Wales when I was a child."

"Well, now that is amazing." Jackson laughed.

"It is, isn't it? But I got tired on the way back and took the train."

"Smart move for a fine lady such as yourself." The prey blushed, almost prettily, taking a long drag on her fag, both of them sitting quietly for a moment.

"Shitty day for a flight, eh?" Jackson broke their short silence.

"Oh yes, such a drastically stormy day. I'm surprised the flight hasn't been delayed at all."

"Yeah. I was once stuck in an airport for hours because of a storm. That was not a good day for me." Jackson visibly shuddered at the thought of that day.

"Do you fly often?"

"Sometimes work requires it." Jackson smiled, not too sweetly.

"Yes, mine requires it quite often. They always have me fly back and forth, it's very exhausting." She took one last puff from her fag before extinguishing it in the huge, crystal ashtray attached to a side table.

Her phone rang, the chorus to _I'm a Bitch_ echoed through the smoking pit. She held up one well manicured finger then flipped her cell open.

"Hellloooo?" Jackson politely pretended not to listen.

"Yes Kenny I got your fucking fax. . . No, no I don't think thats a good idea. . . . Kenny they aren't going to think that Jesus' dad being gay because he worked with wood all day is funny, it's Kentucky for fucks sake! Hell, I don't even think thats funny. . . . Yeah, Kenny, hold on . . ." She turned to Jackson.

"Work, sorry. It was so lovely meeting you!" she squeezed his hand before standing and leaving.

Lovely, indeed, Jackson thought, wiping his hand on the leg of his trousers, as a booming voice announced "Now boarding for Stale Air flight 815 from Chicago to Louisville, Kentucky at gate 60B," repeating it several times.


End file.
